Married
by Athena G
Summary: Minerva receives a letter from home in which an offhand comment breaks her heart all over again.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters, any part of this world etc. That all belongs to JKRowling... but I'm so happy she lets us borrow them!

Inspired by Professor McGonagall's background story

**Married**

The letter from Minerva McGonagall's mother had been sitting in the pocket of her robes for most of the day. It had arrived with the morning owl post, but she had been deep in conversation with Professor Sprout and did not have the time to open it before the Friday lessons began.

Her entire day had then been taken up with teaching and continual, mostly irritating, interruptions throughout the break times, so it wasn't until later that evening when she found an opportunity to catch up on the latest news from home.

After dinner, she had slipped away to her classroom to finish grading the last few essays from her fifth years, whose next Transfiguration lesson was first thing on Monday morning and Minerva wanted a clear, homework-free, weekend ahead. This did mean that she had to reluctantly decline the tempting invitation of a few drinks with her fellow teachers after dinner. She would join them later if there was time.

Full from her heavy meal, Minerva settled at her desk, flicked her wand at the lamp causing the warm light from the enlarged flame to expand over the table top, and unrolled the first of the five remaining essays from her fifth years - _A self-assessment of your performance using the vanishing spell on your chosen invertebrate_. Only when she had scratched a smart 'E' at the top of the last essay did Minerva stand, stretch and walk the lamp-lit corridors to her quarters.

Once inside, Minerva poured herself a large glass of Redshank. To a select few, Redshank was a delicious red wine with a flavour that often gave Minerva a puzzling but compelling urge to slip into her _animagus_ form. She placed her glass on a small table and settled in the cushioned alcove by her window, pulling her mother's letter from her robes. She observed it was a long letter from the thickness of the scroll, and she rolled it out across her lap and began to read.

The first few inches of parchment contained news of Minerva's father and brothers. Her eyes raced over the words, sometimes crinkling with a smile, sometimes closing briefly with exasperation. She began a new paragraph and started to read the next half-foot which contained news from the village when her stomach gave a sudden jolt, somehow entertaining both excitement and discomfort at the same time.

_You remember the eldest son of Farmer McGregor - Dougal?_

Minerva's gaze froze on the name. Dougal. Yes, she remembered Dougal. She forced herself to adjust to the sudden vision of him in her mind's eye, and continued reading.

_He had the most beautiful wedding last week._

Minerva didn't recall when she had picked up the parchment, bringing it closer to her face, but she was gripping the edges hard, her hands suddenly shaking, and she was breathing quickly, shallowly.

_They make a lovely couple._

A whispered, "no," came from Minerva's dry mouth as her eyes flicked back up the parchment.

…_beautiful wedding_.

Married?

Her chest was tightening, causing her shallow breaths to come even faster. She attempted to control them, trying to inhale deeply, but it was more like gasping, and her exhales came out as shuddering breaths as her throat constricted. The first sob came then, and she lost her control entirely. She couldn't breathe, gasping desperately for air as her cries were wrenched out of her.

She had lost him. Dougal; the muggle she would give anything and everything to protect; the man she loved with her entire being; the man she would have died for. The man she had left with scarcely a word of explanation.

Minerva's tears tumbled on to the letter. She crushed it into a ball between her hands and threw it across the room with a sudden cry of unearned anger; a feeling which subsided quickly into sobs of despair.

She didn't know what time it was, but it was dark outside. At some point, Minerva had moved to her sofa by the unlit fire, not allowing herself to lean into the sofa back, nor to slump forward, and was staring straight ahead, unseeing. Her tears were silent now, rolling down her pale cheeks and pooling under her chin. Occasionally, a strangled sob would escape, reinforcing the tears she couldn't seem to prevent from falling.

She didn't hear the footsteps in the corridor approaching her quarters, nor the gentle knocks on the door, nor the click of the latch as the bar lifted.

"Minerva?" Dumbledore's voice sailed as a whisper over to her, gently pulling her from the depths of her trance.

END


End file.
